


Five Sparring Sessions with Zuko

by Kasuchi



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Gen, Sparring
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-08-10
Updated: 2008-08-10
Packaged: 2017-12-27 18:41:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/982283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kasuchi/pseuds/Kasuchi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One fire bender, a ragtag group of warriors, and an upcoming battle against the Fire Nation. Do the math.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Five Sparring Sessions with Zuko

**Author's Note:**

> This hit me like a ton of bricks. Sometimes that happens. Takes place somewhere after "The Firebending Masters" but before "The Southern Raiders."

**1\. Toph**

A rock pelts him in the back of his head.

"Hey, Princess."

Zuko tamps down the urge to twitch his eye and turns around slowly. _What was it that Uncle said? No sudden movements around dangerous creatures?_

Toph grins wickedly, one hand extended out in front of her. Her index finger points directly at him - at his heart, at that - and is almost accusatory. "You owe me."

"What?" Genuine confusion is a new thing for him, really, Zuko thinks sarcastically.

"Sparring." The extended hand curls into a fist, one that she slaps into her other hand. "It's payback time for burning my feet."

A small voice in the back of his head - the one that sounds suspiciously like Uncle but without all the tangled metaphors - warns him that this was like the rabbit-mouse entering the leopard-bear's den. A very real sense of foreboding washes over him, but he steels himself against the sensation. "Fine. Ladies first."

She gestures sarcastically. "After you, Princess."

He glares but makes his way to the sparring ring with as much regality as he could muster. Which is difficult, given the whole "I gave up my throne to help the Avatar" thing.

They face off, the air heavy with a pregnant pause. A pause, because no way Toph will be able to resist taunting. Her stance is narrow, back leg holding the greater portion of her weight, front leg forward and angled left. He notes that both feet are fully on the ground. Her arms bend at the elbows and are tucked into her sides, hands palm up and fingers slightly curled.

He, in turn, adopts a loose horse stance, balanced and light. His torso twists so that he can face her. One hand is palm-down, elbow tucked into his side, fingers hovering in front of his solar plexus. The other is further forward and higher, elbow at shoulder height but out, and his arm angles up, allowing his hand to guard his face.

They stand motionlessly, for a long moment. Then, Toph opens her mouth.

"You gonna make a move, or am I going to have to move you?"

Zuko can't resist smirking. "You could try," he suggests, tone cocky and assured.

Her wicked grin doesn't even twitch. One of her hands suddenly gestures sharply, hand flattening into a blade and cutting sideways into air. Below him, Zuko feels a tremor before suddenly being whipped sideways. The motion startles him and he falls out of stance onto his back, limbs spread-eagled on the tile.

"They don't teach grace at the Fire Palace or something?" He hears Toph taunt, followed by a cackle no twelve-year-old should emit. He leaps to his feet and launches two fireballs in succession, stance lower and more sturdy this time.

Toph stomps, arms rising, and a wall of earth rises up, shielding her, but he's already moving, twin swords of fire in hand, swords that quickly turn into long, thin whips. He brings both down around her as the wall disintegrates, but she leaps on the mound of earth and dodges, a hand covered in stone batting away the other whip. The long licks of flame circle back around, and even though he's fast, she's apparently faster. He whirls the fire behind him, exposing his stomach for a moment - a split second - but it's enough. Out of nowhere, a loosely-packed dirtball the size of his head slams into him, knocking him clear across the sparring arena into a wall. The sudden strike shatters his concentration, and he slams into a wall. In rapid succession, he sees her hands strike out in front of her, and stones pin him in place, rocky shackles almost uncomfortably tight around his wrists.

"Greatest. Earthbender. Ever." The shorter, glassy-eyed young woman grins - _A baring of teeth, more like,_ he thinks - and pokes him in the chest. Then, without warning, she pivots on her heel and walks away. His feet dangle a good meter off the ground and he struggles against his bonds.

"Where are you going?!"

She tossed a casual wave over her shoulder. "I'll be back soon. There's an errand I gotta run," she says too casually, and disappears around the corner. Zuko sighs and stares out over the valley.

_At least the view is nice?_

_Blast it._

**2\. Katara**

They fight in silence.

The only sound between them is the hiss and crackle of fire and water, rushing and striking over and over. Flames meet ice, and a crack fills the area as the structure falls apart. Water strikes a burst of fire, and steam hisses, billowing out in huge, white clouds that leave him sticky with sweat and moisture. They do not taunt each other, they do not even make sounds of exertion; there is only the rush of water and the sound of fire filling the air.

Her hands make a wide sweeping gesture, arms extended and palms out and flat. A huge coil of water comes at him, following her hands. He leaps back and slashes a rigid hand through the air, wide swath of fire cutting the water in half, dissipating even as it buys him time. His feet skid against the tile, the force of the collision pushing him back, and he crosses his arms to the elbow in front of his face. The steam around him billows, a thick fog around them, and he pulls his hands to his sides quickly, elbows tucked close against his body, feet wide and solid, and hands face-upward, cupping fireballs in each palm. She has attacked him before, like this, feeling for him the way Toph does. It leaves him edgy and alert, every sense on edge and stretched thin.

A water whip rushes at him with a sound like a drain, and the fireball in one of his hands thins and extends, and he manages to smack it away with a whip of his own. Another one appears out of the cloud, seemingly out of nowhere, and the other hand bats that away, as well. No second thoughts, not even a frustrated growl.

Silence.

He pulls back the whips and, in a mostly desperate move, shifts his stance so that he stands fully on his back leg. Cat stance fully realized, he sweeps a foot in a wide arc, left to right, and a rolling wave of fire pushes out from him, the clouds clearing from the sparring ring until he can see her again, in the center of eight wiggling tentacles. He bites back a groan - the silence is oppressive, and he doesn't want to know what happens when one of them breaks it - and slides into a comfortable horse stance, hands up and fingers sparking.

Her hands move, suddenly, a blur of dark skin and blue fabric, and he responds. Ropes of water hurtle at him, and he beats them off with bursts of fire, pressing forward and cutting the distance between them in large, infrequent steps. He manages to duck and dodge four tentacles (and never was he more grateful for his sword training than when he twisted and rolled to avoid two veritable drills of water) and tries to knock her off balance. Instead, she rises on the base of her octopus, and he narrowly avoids breaking a toe on the ice. Flipping smoothly, he recovers and retreats,

She raises the water behind her in a column as high as the ceiling and begins to force it to turn, ice javelins of varying sizes and lengths flying out in every direction. Mildly panicked, he blows a dome of fire around him, intense and hot enough that the tile of the floor begins to melt. When the sound of ice shattering ceases for more than a split second, he bursts out in time to dodge a huge mass of rushing water, the front twisted into a drill-like shape.

Recovering, he brings his hands up into a full circle, each hand drawing a half. In one smooth motion, he pulls the energy into himself before unleashing it in a burst directly at her. This time, it's she who makes the ice wall, but he's already moving, hand whipping out in front of him. Five tiny darts of fire beeline for her, where her wall is weakest, and fly true.

Out of nowhere, a wave passes by in front of her, the rushing crash of water startling him to a skidding stop. He flips backward in time to avoid an icicle the size of his torso crash onto the tile, shattering into pieces. Shifting into a simple back stance, he lets loose a series of kicks - roundhouse, side and back - to try and keep her moving. Move she does, water and arms swirling to avoid the bursts. A wheel kick makes a broad, unexpected arc of fire that heads directly for her, but she counters easily. Meanwhile, he hasn't hesitated for a moment, and drops a jumping axe kick, wincing only slightly from the sudden pain in his heel.

He braces himself into a tiger stance, back leg holding the bulk of his weight as he crouches low to the ground, forward leg extended. His hands are up and forward, forearms perpendicular to his upper arms. She manages to quell the flames that have been heading toward her, and his hands draw the pattern without him thinking about it. In a moment, a coil of fire curls around his torso, swelling and extending suddenly. A large, boxlike end hovers over one shoulder, and he resists touching it. A dragon of fire - a glorified whip, really - is curled around him, and he waits for her to make her move.

And move she does. She runs at him from the furthest end of the arena that she can manage, hands out at the sides of her body like she's trying to fly, only there's a tidal wave behind her as opposed to wind beneath her wings. In a spectacular show of raw strength, she lets the full force of the water crash down on him. The dragon becomes that dome-shield once more, the fire spinning and circling around him. It bears the brunt of the blow, and the hissing, spitting noise as the two powers meet is intense and choking. Soon, though, he finds he can't breathe, and leaks begin to appear in his dome. Moments later, the fire is quenched - a matter of volume - and he finds himself standing on a short platform of ice, feet solidly encased. This time, she doesn't freeze him to the wall. Instead, she turns him into a frozen tree, stripped bare of leaves and encased in ice from neck to toe.

 _She's won again,_ he thinks bitterly. _At least this time it was close._

She walks up to him, smile tight around the edges, and bows courteously. Then she, like Toph before her, wanders off, still silent. Even her feet make but the barest hint of sound here, and it's disconcerting.

He sighed. _Fortunately, ice melts._

_Eventually._

**3\. Sokka**

It isn't until he's at the base of the stairs that he realizes the area is taken already.

Sokka works through a sword form, unnaturally dark blade gleaming as the early morning sun catches on the edge. Sokka works through a series of blocks, and the light slips down the edge of the blade, sparkling off of the tip. Sokka brings the blade around in a strong, sure lateral arc, other hand braced out for balance. In a grand gesture, he swings the blade over his head, torso twisting around to keep an eye on his invisible enemy.

Zuko feels his gaze sharpen, taking in the younger boy's form and posture. _There,_ he thinks, watching even more carefully. _And there,_ he notes, and steps forward, drawing his twin swords as silently as he can. There is the sweeping sound of drawn metal, barely audible, and the sudden clang of metal striking metal.

Sokka's expression is surprised. It's perfect, and Zuko feels a smirk spread across his face. "Your guard is down," he says simply, and withdraws, swords up and at the ready.

"Thanks," he replies, shifting his stance. He rests more of his weight on his back leg, both hands on the hilt.

Zuko moves forward, arms moving languidly, and Sokka block his strikes without thinking, the rapid clanging sounds echoing in the hollow space above them. They draw back and breathe for a moment, and this time Sokka strikes, slow and easy to block. Zuko parries easily, batting away the blade and slashing shallowly at Sokka's midsection. Sokka twists out of the way easily, bringing the sword up smoothly as Zuko withdraws his left hand. The blade catches strands of his hair as he spins out of reach, and Zuko pulls back into a forward stance, hands gripping the twin swords like scimitars.

"Who was your master?" Zuko slices laterally, other sword moving in tandem to twist behind him. Sokka blocks and moves his sword around and up, giving him leverage.

"Piandao," He manages after a moment, stepping back and shifting his grip. "We kind of ran into him." Sokka jabs twice, three times at Zuko, putting him on the defensive. Zuko alternates hands as he blocks, the last jab catching between crossed blades. He tries to twist the sword out of Sokka's hands, but the water tribe warrior pivots and pulls up, freeing his sword. He follows the momentum until he's facing Zuko once more. "You?"

Zuko goes on the offensive, blades flaring in the sun. "Palace swordmaster." He strikes out, a fast one-two, and then he pivots on his heel and takes a step forward. Sokka blocks gamely, retreating in the face of the whirling rush of blades and light. "My mother felt it would be best if I learned something more physical." A ghost of a smile flashed over his features as their blades clashed. "I think she just wanted me tired." Zuko changes the height of his strikes with his pivot, making Sokka concentrate. Once or twice, the older boy nearly drew blood, but instinct and speed saved him. The next pair of strikes came from a different angle, and Sokka managed to get under the strikes and block them, half-rolling-half-twisting to move to a different side.

Sokka slashes at Zuko's side in a sweeping gesture. Zuko arches away from the tip, then brings the two blades down together sharply where Sokka was just a moment ago. But he's a step ahead, and neatly sidesteps from Zuko. "For what it's worth," he says quietly, sword in both hands, fingers tight around the hilt, "You're really good."

Zuko grins cockily and turns lightning fast, sword pointed before Sokka can blink. The latter has his sword pointed down in a finishing strike, blade ready to stab through Zuko's head. The former, in a low stance, has his blades at Sokka's heart, both halves once more a whole. It's very obviously a draw, and if anything Zuko's grin grows wider.

"I know," he replies simply, and sheathes his blades with a small flourish. Sokka withdraws as well, and his dark metal quietly slips inside the leather.

There's a mildly awkward pause for a moment, before Sokka breaks it, hefting his sheath strap over his head and onto his shoulder. "Breakfast?"

Zuko nods and buries his pleasure at being accepted, slowly but surely. In two long strides, he catches up with the Water Tribe boy, and they make their way up the stairs chatting about sword care.

**4\. Aang**

"Pai sho?"

Zuko nods sharply. "As the Avatar, you're gonna need to know your strategy, and pai sho is as good a way to practice as anything."

Aang gently lifts a piece and studied it. "I don't think I've played pai sho since I left the air temple." He flicked the piece with a thumb and grabbed it out of the air. "Okay, let's play."

"You know Fire Nation style?"

Aang nods. "The monks would lay the tiles in the spaces, but Kuzon said that that was funny and that most people placed it on the lines." He sets down a tile on an intersection, taking the first turn.

"You don't talk much about your friends from...before." He sets down a tile of his own.

Aang shrugs, a nervous twitching of shoulders and muscles. "I have new friends now," he says simply, and places a tile adjacent to the one Zuko just laid down.

They sit in silence for a long moment, Zuko turning a piece over and over in his hand. "You must miss them." The tile clacks against the board's surface.

Aang rests his hands on his knees, face oddly serene. "I do. But they moved on with their lives. They had their chance to live. This is mine."

Zuko watches him for a moment. "You're much older than you look."

"A hundred and twelve," Aang nods, setting down another tile. He smiles goofily, wide and toothy.

Zuko can't help but smile back, turning his attention to the table. After a long moment, he sets down his own tile, and leans back, confident in his victory, the moves calculated in his head.

Aang grins gleefully and brandishes the white lotus tile, slapping it down. "Looks like I win."

Zuko gapes at the board, mentally running through the game in his head. "What--but I...and you..." His eyes flick between Aang's increasingly smug grin and the board. He buries his face in his hands and lets out a short, frustrated scream. "Why can't I ever beat you?!"

Aang laughs good-naturedly. "You're too serious." He smacks Zuko sharply in the shoulder. "Tag, you're it!" And he races off.

Zuko hesitates for a split second, and in that time Aang is half way across the room. "Hey! Get back here!" He leaps to his feet and runs after him, pai sho board forgotten.

**5\. Zuko**

Dawn crests over the edge of the western air temple, the light breeze blowing through almost musical in the silence of the hour. He takes a minute to breathe it in, the stillness of it all, before falling into a seated position, legs crossed and back straight. His hands lie palm up on his knees, thumb touching middle finger.

He takes a deep breath, eyes fluttering shut as he exhales, and times his breathing to his heartbeat. It is slow and steady, and in the silence he hears it and focuses on it, willing it to go slower.

When the his world slows to the space between heartbeats, he imagines.

There is a wide, flat expanse of tile, not unlike the sparring area in the air temple. Fire Nation banners hang from the rafters, and the imagined air is thick with humidity. He stands in the middle of the room, squinting at the sun in his eyes. He raises a hand to shield his face, and a dark shadow swoops down on him from above. In an automatic, ingrained motion, he dodges out of the way and skids to a stop, swords drawn almost magically from thin air. The weight of the sheath is heavy on his hip in that moment, and the grips of the swords cut into his palms.

Across from him, sun now to his back, stands his opponent. Clothed in black and twin swords raised in a familiar position, the blue spirit mask stares back at him menacingly. He barely registers this before he rushes at him again, and Zuko parries as fast as he can, swords ringing out in the air. Recovering quickly, he presses forward, and the Blue Spirit is now the one furiously parrying, matching every strike with his own and leaving them in a stalemate.

Zuko jumps back just enough to win him enough room to spin his blades faster than the eye can keep up, silver broadswords blurring into dark lines that flicker in the air. It has worked as a distraction technique before, but the Blue Spirit doesn't fall for it, and easily bats away every strike. However, it seems he is tired of being on the defensive and presses once more when Zuko's wrist doesn't quite flick in time, leaving a hole in his defense. Both swords thrust there and then pull apart, breaking his defense forcibly. He staggers back two, three steps, just barely able to parry the worst of the strikes, but some good hits get in, and his forearms bear welts from the flats of the blades.

He takes a fall, rolling under and around and swiping viciously, no restraint anymore. Over his enemy's shoulder, Zuko can see the edge of the ring. His face hardens into a determined expression. With a grand sweeping motion, he manages to melee his way under the masked man's defenses, cracking him smartly under the chin with the pommel. He flies back, neck snapping upwards. Zuko moves through the motion, though, and his other hand bring the sword across, and a wide burn of fire ripples outward, pushing the Spirit over the edge of the ring. It's a cheap way to win, but a ring out is as good as a K.O. in his book, and he will take what he can get.

He pauses for a moment, breathing hard, before circling the blades around his body and sheathing them in unison, as one blade. He is about to turn away when an arm appears at the edge of the ring, pulling itself up. Its grip is sure, and it leaps over the edge, a blur, until it stands in form. The topknot waves behind it, his shirtless and shoeless form tense and threatening. Zuko slowly loosens his sheath and tosses it aside.

For this, he needs only his hands.

The other's eyes are in shadow, but Zuko is still ready when it moves. One strong, sure punch, and a fireball with a long tail heads his way. Zuko blocks the strike with ease, crouching to avoid the kick he knows is coming. Sure enough, the arc of fire flies at him even as the other pulls through the momentum of the strike. Zuko claps his hands together and cuts through the wave, straights, and fires off two of his own punches. The other dodges neatly, but Zuko already has his fire whips at the ready and strikes, advancing with every strike. The other is hard-pressed to keep pace, flame-engulfed hands slapping the thin flames away in rapid succession. Zuko whirls in a tight spin, and a large, tight ring of of fire move outward like a ripple.

The other crosses his arms in front of his face to weather the blow. Zuko holds in a defensive stance, his breathing harder than he likes. The other emerges largely unscathed, though Zuko can see that its hands are slightly singed at the edges, and that the topknot is worse for wear. It takes a deep breath, and Zuko feels himself stiffen. Then it exhales, and a stream of fire bursts forth from its mouth. Zuko's hands make rapid circles in the air, diverting the fire to either side.

When the air clears, Zuko's arms ache, but it is the other who is visibly panting. He runs up to it, moving in to press his advantage, and moves, hands punching, moving to get under the other's defenses. To its credit, the other puts up a good resistance, but it has tired and Zuko has not. In deft strikes, they clash, sometimes flesh striking flesh in punches and blocks. It misses a block by half a second, and it is all the time that Zuko needs. Almost without though, a leg strikes out and sweeps, and the other falls on the tile, hard. In a flash, Zuko is on it, hands braced for the killing strike. By now, both are breathing laboredly, and the other's unnerving black eyes narrow.

Zuko pulls back and bows, one hand in a fist and the other open-palmed. The other blinks and bursts into flames, gone in a flash of fire. Zuko takes a deep breath and pivots on his heels. He freezes.

At the other end of the floor is himself, crown of the Fire Lord in his hair and face unmarred, though the eyes are as black as the other figure's. His hands are folded into the opposite sleeves and held chest-high. Zuko feels the hairs on the back of his neck rise, the air suddenly charged.

The false Fire Lord's hands emerge from within the sleeves, crackling blue with lightning. Zuko barely has time to gasp before the jagged lines are heading for him, screaming through the air and filling his vision until--

His eyes snap open in the real world, the sun well into the sky. He shakes his head and slowly rises, feeling blood flow back into muscles that haven't moved in far too long. Behind him, he hears feet approaching and tries to not stumble or stagger from the sharp pain.

"There you are," greets Haru, followed closely behind by Teo and The Duke. "Suki and Katara are making breakfast."

"I helped!" The Duke added, grinning.

Zuko feels a smile tug at his lips and he nods. They turn and walk back down, chattering. Zuko follows in silence, but the smile doesn't leave his face.

_I won._

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. I wrote his _before_ watching "The Southern Raiders," so the characters _should_ be true to where they are roughly at the end of the third dvd.
> 
> 2\. Northern Xiaolin (or Shaolin) Style Kung Fu, which is the style that firebending is based on, also features weapons training. So, it becomes clear really quickly that Zuko was trained in weapons at the same time that he was learning firebending. Dual broadsword techniques are pretty characteristic of this style.
> 
> 3\. Er. Well, YouTube was like my best friend while writing this. The kids oughta be powered about the right level. I will admit to having referenced Azula for Zuko's more mature fighting style. And yes, I did give Not!Prince Zuko Iroh's Dragon Breath attack there. *grin*
> 
> 4\. Lots of love to **tenebris** for being awesome and there for me. A lot of love for **raynos** for listening to me gripe about this, as well. You both kill me with kindness.


End file.
